


52. Sightseeing in Rome, Part II

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [52]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings: none</p>
    </blockquote>





	52. Sightseeing in Rome, Part II

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: none

It's evening by the time they return to the hotel, the sky still deceptively light outside. They'd managed to do the Pantheon and spent some serious time in the Piazza Navona, taking in the artists, street performers, musicians as well as fabulous fountains and architecture. Dinner they'd grabbed at another small, out-of-the-way trattoria, no one but locals around them, good house wine and food followed by scrumptious dessert. All in all, it's been a good day and Antony's so fucking grateful they managed to salvage what was left of it.

Locking the door behind them, Antony turns, leaning against it and says, "Go use the washroom if you need to and then bring me your collar, boy."

Stephen's been fighting it all day - so the sudden need to shift his head space isn't as easy as normal, even so he inclines his head with a soft 'Yes Sir," before he heads into the bathroom. He strips off, pisses and washes up, including his dick and his ass. When he presents himself back in the bedroom he's as fresh as he can be without a shower.

His boy looks like some kind of god, equal to or better than any of the statues they saw today and Antony smiles, exchanging Stephen's casual collar for his slave one, the latter locked around his throat. "You are so beautiful," he says softly, giving Stephen a warm kiss before he steps back. "Get me a drink and then I want you kneeling."

The kiss and the softness his Sir is displaying is a contrast to what he was expecting, nevertheless Stephen moves to pour Antony a healthy measure of scotch before returning to sink to his knees and offering up the glass with an expectant look. His submission isn't coming easily, but it's there, easing its way back to sooth him.

"Good boy," Antony says, accepting the glass and moving to take a seat on the couch, a quick gesture indicating he wants Stephen kneeling at his feet. He sips at his drink, hand on the back of Stephen's neck, palm hot on the links of his collar. "Did you have a good day?"

"For the most part, yes thank you," Stephen tilts his head to look up at his Sir. "Italy is beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it," Antony says, setting his drink aside. "We'll go see the Colosseum tomorrow." He brushes his fingers over Stephen's cheek. "I want you to get us some lube," he orders. "From the bowl on the dresser, but stay on the floor to do it."

"Yes Sir." Stephen drops to all fours and crawls to the dresser. Bringing the whole bowl down so he can sort through to find the particular brand they favour, he sets out the packets and returns the bowl, before carefully setting the packets in his mouth and crawling back. Pushing up to sit on his heels he leans in to offer his Sir the lube.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, taking the packets from Stephen's mouth, the sight alone making his cock throb. "Now undress me. Slowly."

Dipping his head Stephen works first on his Sir's shoes, he pulls them off and sets them aside, next his socks, and as each foot is stripped he pauses for a moment to rub hand over each one, as if to ease any discomfort his Sir might feel from the day's walking. Then he pushes up onto his knees. "May I remove your tee Sir?" he asks quietly, blue eyes meeting like.

"You may," Antony responds with a nod.

His fingers grip the warm soft cotton, and Stephen lifts up, exposing that muscular chest, with its covering of dark hair. He scrunches the fabric up in his hands to carefully pull over Sir's head and then he neatly folds it and sets it aside, though he does pause to bury his face in it for a moment, to savour his Sir's scent.

Antony smiles. "You like that smell?"

"It's your smell Sir, not your sex smell, but you...it's a thing I miss when you are away," Stephen admits.

"I'll have to leave a t-shirt for you the next time," Antony says, touching Stephen again, hand moving over his shoulder and down his arm, just because he can.

"I'd love that, thank you," Stephen smiles and leans into the caress.

"There's still my jeans," Antony says, smiling back, drinking in the sight of his boy, naked, kneeling, serving his sir. "You want me to stand or just lift up?"

"Please stand Sir," Stephen corrects his posture and settles back waiting. "My view will be so much more enticing if you do," he teases.

Antony laughs and pushes to his feet, the ridge of his erection obvious against the front of his jeans.

Popping the button, Stephen eases the zipper down over that denim clad bulge. "You're so hard already," he observes softly, "Does my kneeling for you do this? Or is there something else?" he asks, peeling the fabric aside to reveal the ridged flesh and the dark curls at the base of his Sir's cock.

"It's you. Naked, kneeling, crawling, knowing I _own_ you," Antony says, watching his boy.

Stephen nudges the denim down to pool at his Sir's ankles and then, because he's sure there is leeway here, he leans in and nuzzles at the base of his Sir's cock, inhaling the smell there - musky and all male, he presses a soft kiss to the inside of Sir's thigh before returning to his task.

A soft sound of pleasure spills from Antony's mouth and he cups the back of Stephen's head, tugging him back in, face pressed to his groin.

Letting go of the denim, Stephen slides his hands around his Sir's thighs, and opens his mouth, tasting skin, nuzzling in happily against his Sir's cock and balls.

"Fuck, yeah," Antony murmurs, widening his stance a little, as far as his jeans will let him. "Suck my cock, boy."

It was the order he was waiting for, moaning happily Stephen moves his mouth over one testicle and up the impossibly thick shaft to the crown. He licks over the crown, swiping away the tiny bead of precum before wrapping his lips around it to suck gently.

"Yeah, that's it," Antony groans, digging his hands into Stephen's short hair, nails scraping as his scalp as he rocks his hips a little, gaze laser-focused on his boy's mouth.

Opening his mouth wider, Stephen sucks more in, easing the hard flesh down his throat. He's gotten pretty good at overriding his gag reflex if he takes it easy and that's what he's working toward right now. His hands inch upward, until he's cupping the underside of his Sir's butt cheeks.

"Christ... look at you," Antony murmurs, his voice thick with arousal, another groan welling up from deep in his chest as he lets his head drop back for just a moment, his eyes closed, savouring the feel of it. "Such a slut for this."

He is, and Stephen would never deny it. Not since the first time he got to taste this particular dick - he loves how his Sir tastes, and the sensation of his lips being so fucking stretched around the girth is one that never ever gets old. He's utterly unaware of his own arousal, of his erection which hangs unacknowledged between his spread thighs, all there is for Stephen is Sir, and his needs.

"Yeah, god, take it," Antony urges, hands cupping the back of Stephen's head, his eyes back on his boy's mouth, watching his cock disappear between those lips, down that throat. "Take it all, boy."

Stephen's never managed to take it all, not with out gagging and a fight - and that had been one time in a hard scene - which this is not. So he takes what he can, and then he starts to work what he has, sucking and humming loudly against the hot skin. He keep his eyes open and tilted up to watch his Sir's expression.

"You can take more than that, boy," Antony murmurs, pressing in just that fraction of an inch deeper, his hand on the back of Stephen's head keeping him in place. He won't push further, won't try and make Stephen take it all, not tonight, not like this, but someday he wants him there.

He takes it, after all Stephen has no choice, which is just how he likes it, but it's starting to make his eyes water all the same. He sucks, cheeks hollowing as much as they can, and he swallows what he can of his own saliva, the rest simply seeps out of the corners of his mouth, making him look even more debauched.

"There you go," Antony praises, voice thick with arousal, trying for a fraction still deeper before he draws back a little, thrusting gently, so fucking close it's not going to take much more.

It's so close to being too much, but Stephen thrills at the knowledge his Sir is pushing him, even in something as basic as this. He hums to add a new layer of sensation, his fingers pressed deeper into the flesh of his Sir's butt.

"Fuck," Antony grits out, breathing through his nose as he fights to hold on, hold back, savour this as fucking long as he can. But he's too close and it feels too fucking good and with Stephen humming like that? He goes over with a shout, hips pumping, cock spurting hot and thick and heavy down his boy's throat.

There's no way Stephen can deal with it, he chokes, tries to swallow and ends up struggling to breathe. Cum spills messily down his chin as he fights against the dick in his mouth. His hands pressing pushing against Antony's thighs now, desperate to get air.

Antony pulls out, giving Stephen his space, aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through him. "You okay, boy?"

Stephen starts to nod even as he starts to cough, spunk burning his airways having gone down the wrong way. He covers his mouth and drops down onto his heels, and slows his breathing to force himself to calm down. It's been a long while since he got caught out like this - a rookie mistake - one he thought he'd moved past.

Antony steps out of his jeans, kicking them aside, and grabs a bottle of water from the mini-fridge which he brings back to Stephen. "Small sips," he warns, cracking the lid and handing it over before he takes a seat on the couch again, watching his boy with concern.

It takes a couple of minutes, but Stephen gets a handle on himself, his breathing returns to normal and he sips from the bottle. Only when he's fully recovered does he lift his gaze to meet his Sir's. "I am so sorry," he murmurs, mortified that even in this he fucked up today.

Antony nods. "I know you are, but to be fair, I pushed you harder than I should have," he says. "You need some actual training if I'm going to do that."

Stephen's brow wrinkles for a moment, "Training?" he blinks and then ducks his head. "Yes, yes of course Sir, if boy needs it."

"Only for deep-throating me," Antony says, watching Stephen closely. "And only because I think, with some training, you can. I wouldn't even try it with another boy."

His head still bowed, Stephen nods. "Yes Sir, thank you," his face feels sticky, nasty with drying cum and saliva, there's a tension in his body that isn't entirely pleasant.

Antony looks at Stephen for a long moment, simply assessing posture, tone. "Go wash up and then come back here," he orders.

There's a distinct slump in Stephen's shoulders at that, he nods and rolls to his feet before heading to the bathroom, he washes his face and hands and that done he selects a small wash cloth which he dampens with warm water, he carries that back with him, along with a hand towel, and drops to his knees again, offering both to his Sir. "May boy make you comfortable?" he offers - because all he can do right now is try - try to be better, try to please.

"Yes, but he can also talk to me," Antony says. "Tell me what's wrong."

Stephen blinks hard at that, he shuffles in and busies himself with his task; carefully cleaning his Sir's cock and balls from all the cum he failed to swallow. The silence stretches out between them, and he knows he has to say _something_ before his Sir becomes angry with him.

"Boy failed." There is so much more he's feeling, but it boils down to this.

"Not in my books, he didn't," Antony says firmly, trailing his fingers over Stephen's side. "He took what he could and then he took even more because I pushed him. And even good boys choke sometimes. Especially on a cock as big as mine," he adds with a grin. "My wanting to train you, that's not punishment, it's not displeasure, it's pride, me thinking I have a boy who _could_ handle all of me."

Something in Stephen gives, and his hands fall away from his Sir's groin down to his own lap, and he presses his forehead to his Sir's knee. Tears dampen Antony's skin long before his shoulders shake with the first sob.

Antony lays a hand over Stephen's head and gently pets him. He doesn't say anything more, doesn't try and make things better, just waits for the tears to run their course. It's been a long day, fraught with emotion, and it's not really surprising things would end up here, despite the fact he thought he was choosing something simple, that might de-stress the day on its own.

It's the first time Stephen has broken down like this - tears bought about by things outside of a scene - in front of Antony. When his crying eases up he uses the corner of the hand towel to wipe his eyes. "More often than not, you make me feel so good, you give me a sense of right. You give me confidence in my submission, you make me feel like I'm enough for you. That I've found someone who values what I have to offer," he pauses to swallow, his voice thick. "But when I fuck up, when I do something thoughtless, something stupid..." he stops again, reliving that moment of realisation of what he'd done - earlier when he'd kissed his lover in a crowd of people. "I remember that I'm not..."

"Not what? Not good enough?" Antony tenses for a moment before letting the sudden burst of frustration go. "You made a stupid move today, but it doesn't mean you're stupid, and I still can't imagine a more perfect boy for me. I think you're tired, jet-lagged - which might even explain earlier - and you're reading more into things than's actually there." He pats his lap. "C'mere."

It is with a great deal of reluctance that Stephen moves - he wants to stay on the floor, on his knees, he wants to deny himself the comfort his Sir is offering, but his need to obey, to please overrides this and he climbs up into Antony's lap.

Antony wraps his arms around Stephen, pulling him in close. He kisses him softly and just holds him for a minute before speaking. "I think we should forget about sightseeing tomorrow. Sleep in, have breakfast in bed, go for a walk if you want, but I don't think we should plan anything."

"Just a day to relax?" Stephen tucks his face in against Antony's neck. "Will you let me serve you?" he asks softly. "Let me try?"

Antony nods. "I'd like that, very much," he says, keeping his arms around Stephen and hugging him close. It's not quite the way he envisioned this vacation but it's not like everything needs to be seen or done now. They have _years_ in which to come back as many times as they want.

Stephen's fingers seek out Antony's dog tags, and he rubs his thumb over where his slave number is etched. "I love you so much," he whispers. "You are so patient with me, so very good for me."

"We're good for each other," Antony points out, brushing his lips over the side of Stephen's temple. "And I just want to make you as happy as you make me."

"I really do? More than anyone else has?" Stephen still struggles with the idea that out of all the people Antony's been with, it's him that his Sir has chosen.

"God, yeah. No one else has been even close," Antony says. He smiles at Stephen and adds, because he's important for his boy to know, "I can truly say I've never been this happy in my life."

There's not much to say to that, other than reaching up to turn Antony's face to his own, Stephen holds his lover's gaze for a moment before leaning in and pressing his mouth to his Sir's and kissing him - and letting all his own emotion bleed through.

Antony kisses back, responding in kind. Rests his forehead against Stephen's when they finally part, a small smile on his lips. "Bed?"

"Yeah, I'm kinda ready for today to be done," Stephen admits. "A good night sleep makes every thing better."

"Yeah, it does. Go crawl in and I'll be right there," Antony says, giving him another kiss.

It's not _their_ bed - but it will have his lover and Sir in it, so Stephen settles down, punching the pillows and rolling on his side to watch the bathroom door - waiting for Antony to reappear.

Antony takes a few minutes to take a piss and quickly wash up. He's exhausted, the emotions of the day finally taking their toll on him as well. But he's happy with their plan - or non-plan - for the next day, knowing it's what Stephen needs. He flicks off the light in the bathroom and closes the door behind him, smiling at Stephen as he crawls into bed and presses close, pulling his boy in tight and kissing him.

Pressed up tight, his face buried in Antony's neck, Stephen lets the tension slip away, because here, in his Sir and lovers arms...he's safe, loved, wanted.

"I didn't set the alarm," Antony murmurs, shifting so they're both comfortable. "So sleep in in the morning, okay?"

"We're on vacation," Stephen whispers back. "The only alarm clock I need is the one between your thighs," he smiles sleepily into warm skin.


End file.
